Jack Cannon's American Destiny

Rachel Thompson

Friday, September 20, 2013

The Tales of Nick: The Seduction of Sera by Steve Wilhelm

Prologue

Dark, cold, trembling. Where was I? I shook my head and slowly the black turned to a dull grey.

I opened my eyes and strained to see something—anything. My head throbbed as if a ping hammer was constantly pounding from the inside. The more I concentrated and tried to focus, the more I felt the pain in my head. It was overwhelming, and there seemed nothing I could do to overcome it. Why was I hurting so? The tumultuous angst was indescribable. I seemed totally immobilized, body, mind and soul. Where could I obtain help? Was there anyone out there? I practiced my relaxation therapy, and obtained a small amount of relief . . . but then . . .

There was that pain again, but it wasn’t as overpowering as before. As I tried to blink several times, all I could see was that dull grey and I realized I was blindfolded, unable to move and bound as well.

So many questions raced through my fogged mind. Where was I? Why was I blindfolded and incapacitated? What the hell was going on? I tried to scream, however only a muffled, senseless sound came out of my mouth. So I was gagged as well. Once again, I wondered where I was. The sick feeling of dread spread rapidly through my body when I realized I didn’t even know my own name. My God! I didn’t even know my name! Had I been kidnapped, drugged, or had “another one of those nights” again?

I stopped struggling and listened for a few minutes. I heard the cold clank of a door latch and it was frightening. I was in major trouble. I had no idea who was on the other side of the door. I began to think I was going to be a victim of some sordid type of torture which sent shivers of terror coursing through my body. Every thought of imaginable horror went through my mind. The door suddenly opened, and banged against the wall with such force, I thought the next sound I heard would be the hinges breaking and the door crashing to the floor.

“Nick? Are you awake?” A female voice.

The sound brought a new stab of pain into my head. I couldn’t tell where the voice came from; it could’ve been from in front of me or behind, or even inside my rattled brain, but fear engulfed my entire being. Suddenly memory and recollection began to flood in. I knew who I was.

My name was Nick Ambrose. I was a first time author, a recovering alcoholic and I was currently in deep shit. What the hell had I done to get into this hell hole?

It didn’t matter, I thought. My best offense at the moment was to try to relax, remain calm, slow my breathing thus to feign unconsciousness. If my captor was unsure if I was awake I would buy myself some time to form a plan on what to do. I was in trouble, and I knew it. There was no escape. I tried to think what my options were. Being quiet and appearing unaware of anything were my best options at this point. Just examine this moment by moment.

As I slumped back into the chair that confined me, I struggled to piece together the chain of events which led me to such a bizarre and possible deadly condition.